


Scratch

by queenhomeslice



Series: I Wanna Ride My Chocoboy All Day: Prompto/Reader Stories [21]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon Compliant, Chubby Reader, Curvy Reader, F/M, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, Innuendo, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, fat reader, plus size reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:55:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22805215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: "I've got an itch to scratch, I need assistance" --"Touch Me," The Rocky Horror Picture Show_____Or, how would the reader use "scratch my itch" as sexual innuendo towards Prompto?
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Reader
Series: I Wanna Ride My Chocoboy All Day: Prompto/Reader Stories [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1554340
Comments: 10
Kudos: 37





	Scratch

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way.

The worst thing about being on the run from the Niflheim empire is...well, _everything_ is the worst, but maybe _the_ worst thing is never feeling like there’s a right time to steal a private moment with Prompto to tell him how you feel. Daemons, you could handle. You’re a spellcasting master, right up there with Iggy and Noct—you still get scared in battle, but hanging on the outskirts with Prompto as the party’s second ranged fighter has become almost second nature. Plus, it puts you in proximity to your crush. So, that’s a bonus. 

Except...Prompto doesn’t actually know how you feel, and you’re reluctant to tell him. First of all, the way he prattles on about Cindy Aurum every waking moment is a real hit to your ego—why _wouldn’t_ he ever pick her over you? You’re twice her size and about as awkward as Prompto is. Besides, your friendship with Prompto is one of the lights in the chaos of your world. You make sure to cover Prompto’s back in battle, you’re always volunteering to go take pictures with him or to run errands with him when the five of you stop for supplies. You’ve been friends with the prince and the others for over five years now, and everyone has a close bond of friendship, even if you’re the only girl. You’re not treated any different, and you strive your hardest to be a capable fighter for Noctis. You don’t want to do anything to fuck that up—rejection from Prompto would surely damper the team dynamic. 

_But_. The warmth that spreads across your body and settles low in your stomach whenever he’s around is becoming increasingly hard to ignore. So are the stirrings between your legs—you find yourself getting off in the showers at hotels and late at night in the tent, when you’re a thousand percent sure that the guys are asleep. If anyone notices you taking care of your little problem, no one says anything. But there’s a distinct Prompto-shaped hole in your fluttering heart, and you’re determined to fill it, one way or another. 

The opportunity comes sooner than you anticipate. Gladio accompanies Noct to a nearby lake for a few hours of fishing, and Ignis decides to scour the forest around the haven for wild vegetables and herbs. There’s not much else to do, so that leaves you and Prompto alone at the haven for the time being. 

Prompto settles into a camping chair, fiddling with his camera. It’s late afternoon—there are dark clouds on the horizon, and the air is tinted with the smell of an oncoming storm—but it looks to be several hours away at best. The sun is shining directly overhead for the time being, and it’s warm. You slip off your leather jacket and plant yourself in the chair next to his. 

“Take any good photos of our hunt yesterday?” 

“Huh?” Prompto raises his head, light blush spreading across his pretty freckled features. “Oh, uh, yeah! Wanna see?” 

You lean over closer, getting all into Prompto’s personal space, feeling your pulse quicken as you do so. You can feel his breath as he ducks his head low and touches yours, scrolling through the pictures on the tiny digital screen. There’s a gratuitous amount of Iggy’s legs; Gladio’s strong, chiseled back; Noct’s incredible warp-strike in action—but then he gets to the last few pictures. They’re of you darting along the outskirts of the battle, hands raised in fury, summoning the elements to destroy the daemons. Your face is fierce with determination, the fire in your hands casting flickering shadows over your round, dirty face. 

“It’s amazing how you can make anybody look like a badass warrior,” you laugh. 

“Hey, I just call ‘em like I see ‘em,” Prompto says, voice low and serious. “I just take candid shots of what’s there. That’s all you, dude.” 

You shake your head as you prompt him to scroll through the few photos of you again. “Normally I hate myself in pictures, but...yours aren’t so bad. Well...okay scratch that. They’re really good, Prom. You could have a career in this, y’know. After the war.” 

Prompto shrugs. “You really think so? It’s just a hobby. I mean I know I’m a nerd about it—” 

“You bought a photography magazine at the Assassin’s Festival,” you interrupt. 

“Okay, point taken. But professionally, really? You think?” 

“I do think so, yeah.” You look back down to the camera. The air is charged with tension. You swallow hard. If you don’t do it now, you never will. You raise your head. “Hey, uh, Prom.” 

“Yeah, ____________?” His eyes are still on the photo of you throwing fire at a red giant. 

You inhale sharply, heartbeat echoing loud in your own ears. “I uh. I have an itch that needs scratching.” 

Prompto looks up curiously. “Ah, the dreaded middle-of-the-back itch,” he laughs, setting his camera on the rocky ground. He shifts sideways in his chair. “I gotcha, point to where it itches.” 

You bite your lip and take his hand—his eyes widen and his cheeks flood with color as you guide his slender trigger fingers to your lap, spreading your thighs just a little. You settle his hand between them and slowly take your own hand away. You look him in the eyes. 

Prompto’s pupils are blown out wide, mouth slightly ajar, face as red as a Leiden tomato. He’s shaking a little, but makes no effort to pull away. 

You squeeze your thighs on instinct—how many years have you dreamed about his hand between your legs? You can feel moisture pooling in your underwear already. 

“Uh,” squeaks Prompto, throat dry. “You sure, uh, um. You sure you want _me_ to help you with this...uh. With this particular itch?” He swallows audibly. 

“I mean, only if you want to?” you say quietly, unsure of how to proceed. You’re suddenly self-conscious—of course he doesn’t like you like _that,_ how could you be so dumb? “If you don’t...like me like that, Prompto, it’s fine, I’m sorry, I just...” You brace yourself on the fabric armrests and move to get up. 

Prompto’s fingers curl around your core and you freeze. “Don’t,” says Prompto. “Don’t leave, I just...” He looks away. “I _do_ like you like that. A lot. I mean... _a lot_.” 

“Seriously?” His hand between your thick thighs is becoming too much to bear. You pull his hand away and hold it in yours. “Prom, hey—look at me.” He obeys, eyes misty with quiet tears. “You...you _like_ me?” 

“I’ve had a crush on you for _forever_ , ask the guys,” Prompto confesses. “I just never thought—I dunno, you know how I am! It’s not like I could’ve just gone up to you and said it!” 

“Well, you _could_ have, you big dingus!” you laugh. 

“Well how come _you_ never said anything?” Prompto frowns in mock offense, sticking out his tongue. 

“Okay, first of all, do you know what it’s like being in love with your best friend for literal years? Second...I mean...I’m _me_ , Prompto. I don’t look like Cindy, and I probably never will, and I—” 

“Okay, stop right there. The only reason I started talking about Cindy was because I thought I’d never have a chance with _you_. Yeah she’s cute, but I don’t know her. We’ve been friends since middle school. We know each other. And I...I wanna be with you.” He looks away again, blushing even more. “And uh. I wanna scratch all of your itches. If you know what I mean.” 

You bust out into laughter as you rise from the camping chair, his gloved hand still in yours. You guide him to his feet and embrace him, kissing his sweet, slightly chapped lips for the first time. You swallow each other’s moans and pull each other into the tent, determined to make the most of your alone time. 


End file.
